The Flowers, Herself
by Denwa
Summary: There's a tree in your backyard that you just can't seem to let go of. [Juugo, Sasuke, Sakura.]


**The Flowers, Herself.**  
written by the loved birds.

(**Working Title:** If You Are To Go.)

-

**Prompt:**  
fake beauty

-

**Taglines/Quotes:**  
— "Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself." (Virginia Woolf, _Mrs. Dalloway_)  
— "He had often said to me: _I am not long for this world_, and I had thought his words idle." (James Joyce, _Dubliners_)

* * *

"It's like restless leg syndrome." 

Sasuke raised an eyebrow but kept quiet as Juugo continued to speak. (_Step. Step._) The man shrugged and shook his head, his thick coat scratching his neck. Sasuke winced. The material was thick. Rough. Almost like it was covered with corn starch and left there.

"I just can't help it."

Juugo shrugged again and Sasuke did not answer as he continued to walk (_Step. Step. Right. Left._) deep into the forest. There were sharp-leaved bushes on this dirt path, digging into the heels of his stylized sandals but he did not stop and bend over and rip the splinter away. Maybe he had sinned. Maybe this was that old-man-up-there's way of punishing him. He looked down as he walked. So slow.

Itachi was waiting.

Somewhere. Somewhere—he was getting closer.

The Uchiha stole a quick, short-lasting glance at Juugo who had birds on his shoulders and sighed under his breath. Maybe he should've teamed up with Karin. Who knows what she and Suigetsu were arguing about now ("_You don't wear socks!_").

"Sasuke."

He did not look up.

"Sasuke?"

"Hm?"

Juugo pointed and Sasuke looked up. Wonderful. Thorns were in their way, ensnaring a once-magnificent tree like a snake to a bird. But the bird will win somehow. The bird will always win. The tree's leaves were red, tinting amber in the bright rays of sunlight and Sasuke looked away. His hand hung, half-raised, before Juugo interrupted.

"Sasuke?"

"What?"

"Should I—"

"No, I'll handle it."

Honestly? Sasuke thought. Honestly? He honestly thought that Juugo was indecisive. He honestly believed that Juugo would be better off with talking to birds—_birds_—than talking to him.

He fingered Kusanagi for a hesitant second before whipping it out, nearly cutting himself and Juugo while doing so, and he slashed the thorns seven times, making an awkward flower. The thorns fell to the ground—roses? Did he smell roses?—and he sheathed Kusanagi, beckoned Juugo forward. "Let's hurry up and go," he said but there was nowhere to go. Just wander. Hopefully find Itachi.

Juugo replied with a slight nod of his head and Sasuke repressed a disgusted sigh. What a pansy.

What a pansy.

"… Sasuke?" the orange-haired man asked after a while and Sasuke really did sigh this time.

"What is it now, Juugo?"

"Have you ever seen pink hair on a woman before?"

"No," Sasuke snapped tersely, perhaps too quickly. He did not—that… _girl_ wasn't a _woman_. "Wherever did you, Juugo, get that ridiculous idea from?"

Juugo blushed faintly—obviously he was afraid to stand up for himself. "Nothing," he stammered. "It's just that… my birds. They tell me that a woman with pink hair—some dogs—and a Konohagakure hitai-ate—"

"Then let's move faster."

They did move faster—fast enough that Sasuke's hair flew into his eyes. Fast enough for Sasuke to hope that they would get rid of Sakura. Anyone but her or Naruto. Anyone but those two.

"… You know her, then," Juugo muttered darkly after a while, half to himself, half to the world to hear.

"No such thing," Sasuke answered tonelessly. He didn't know her, actually, and she didn't know him either—that was what he told Juugo. "It's just by chance—we don't want to be caught by someone from Konohagakure; the lot know me."

He stopped suddenly and Juugo nearly crashed into the tree in front of him.

"What are you—?"

"Don't talk right now. We need another false trail." Sasuke ripped of a strip of his sleeve and handed it over, calmly, to a bewildered Juugo. "Give it to one of your birds. Wait approximately twenty-five seconds before moving right." He tapped the radio hovering over his ears. "The radio transmitter _should_ be able to connect us in case you find anything."

"By myself?"

"By yourself."

"But… but I might—"

"No." Sasuke sounded tired. "Just go. Do what I say."

"… You know her, don't you." It was not a question asked; it was a statement said, clearly, ringing in Sasuke's ears like a nuisance of a bell, tolling; telling him the hours and the seconds and he counts them: _one, two, three, three-and-three-fourths, four._ A kind of clock that was not very even but told nonetheless.

"No," he said flatly but he knew that Juugo would not stop persisting—perhaps he was feeling bold today?

"In fact, you even _like_ her—"

"Drop it," snarled Sasuke, too forcefully, too angrily. There was so much anger in him—he and Juugo were so alike and yet so different.

Birds chirped and Juugo reluctantly took the strip of cloth still grasped tightly in Sasuke's hands and called forth those singing winged, poor, poor creatures. They were going to die someday; earlier than expected if they stayed out like this, but Sasuke nodded and cocked his head to their left.

"I will go this way."

"But—"

"_What?_"

Juugo inwardly flinched. "It's just that… how will you know that that girl will find you instead of me? You have your scent already; you gave it to the bird—what about me?"

Sasuke stared evenly at him, making the older man feel strange inside. "Here," replied Sasuke, pointing at the ground about a half of a foot in front of him, looking slightly annoyed. "Come over here, Juugo." The said-man hesitated.

"Now, and hurry," he snapped flatly, and Juugo paced himself to stand over.

He realized that Sasuke was probably underweight. Juugo could see the sharp angle of his jaws, his slender neck blemished by his curse seal. Sasuke was tall, but skinny like he needed to be fed more; hazy circles under his eyes, a scratch from beneath his black eyes to his chin remained from the fight with Deidara; a bruise there, on his left cheek, ugly and green and purple. His pale skin did not help very much.

But Sasuke was not as tall as Juugo—almost nobody was—and so he had to stand on the balls of his feet (ignoring the sharp pain on his right foot from thorns) to wrap his arms around Juugo. He stiffened, instantly—what was Sasuke doing? An almost uncontrollable rage flared but it went away.

"What are you—?"

"Shh," whispered Sasuke, his warm breath (Juugo was surprised that it wasn't cold breath) tickling his ears. He felt warm inside. What was this feeling? Surely Kimimaro had told him about this. "Don't worry. I don't believe that a chick would abandon its captured prey, would it?" The Uchiha's head rested on his shoulders, pulling him tighter. "You and I have an equally unbreakable bond, whether we want it or not."

"Bond—"

"Sakura can pick those flowers herself," he told him quietly, still holding him, still standing on his toes, still ignoring the pain digging into his foot. "She and Naruto—"

"Naruto?"

"The blonde boy—an idiot—can—"

But Juugo pushed him away before he could finish, knocking him onto the ground. If Sasuke was surprised then he did not show it.

"You love them, don't you?" he accused the Uchiha boy. "You love them, don't you?" he repeated, angry at something—what, though?—but his seal did not flutter about on his body frenziedly like it normally would. This was not about killing, was it? "You love them and yet you threw them away because—"

"They aren't important to me," answered Sasuke nonchalantly. "They are nuisances. Almost like you."

It is a cold, professional tone that Sasuke uses, and Juugo thinks that this beautiful boy in front of him is a monster. He opened his mouth to say so but Sasuke smiles eerily—coldly—and stepped in—his left foot—and drew up to his full height (five-something—seven? Eight?) and his mouth covered so dangerously to Juugo's lips that he is a little afraid that Sasuke will kiss him.

"I think," he said slowly, dragging out all of his syllables, "that that is enough for her to mistake you for me." And as fast as that had happened, he spun around, gripping Kusanagi in his hands and leaving him—leaving Juugo—for whatever reason that he had. Bonds? Perhaps. Maybe he was merely a puppet—maybe there was not a single use in recruiting him at all.

"What are you waiting for?"

Because Juugo knows that Sasuke's persona—this beautiful one; this cold one—was fake, fake, fake.

Sasuke does not turn around when Juugo replies, too truthfully for his own tastes, "Nothing." Sakura will come soon—that Sakura girl with that Konohagakure hitai-ate and those two dogs and she will have three paths to choose from.

Juugo hoped that she chose the left one.

"Nothing," he repeated, but Sasuke was already gone.

_Nothing_.

It might've echoed in the wind and maybe that girl could've heard him.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**  
— In case you didn't notice, Sasuke most resembles the Fenghuang (Naruto has a lot of mythology) so that's why he refers to himself as a "chick."  
— The title of this fic ("The Flowers, Herself") refers to Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway—it opens up with "Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself."


End file.
